


Ghost Quest 2k18

by sanidine



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Ensemble Cast, Gen, Ghost Hunters, Haunting, Horror, Humor, Kayfabe Compliant, Post-SHIELD Reunion, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-08 09:57:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12862116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanidine/pseuds/sanidine
Summary: Coming Soon, to the WWE Network - Dean Ambrose is going to punch every ghost that he can get his hands on, he just has to find them first





	Ghost Quest 2k18

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dahdeemohn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dahdeemohn/gifts).



> "I don't deny that I get excited, but that's what happens when you're passionate about what you do." - Zak Bagans, Ghost Adventures
> 
> "When you are in the dark and you can't see anything, something is looking at you and seeing everything." - Zak Bagans, Ghost Adventures

“So, what do you think?” Dean asked after he had finished outlining his plan.

Xavier blinked back at him from across the table, pushing his pasta salad around his plate with one of those shitty disposable forks that bent in half every time it so much as brushed up against a noodle. It was early enough that they had craft services mostly to themselves, with only referee John Cone sitting at a neighboring table.

“Let me get this right.” Xavier said. “You want to host a show where you go looking for ghosts. And then when you find the ghosts, you want to fight them?”

“Yep!” Dean beamed. He had known that Xavier would get it. Except, “I don't just _want_ to fight them, Xav - I _have_ to. But it's a great idea, right?”

“I don't think so.”

“What? Why not?” Dean couldn't believe what he was hearing. Maybe he hadn't done a good enough job explaining the concept. “Seriously, just think about it. The WWE Network has all sorts of shows, right? But I did some research and I found out that there are two things they don't have - a cooking show and a ghost hunting show!”

“That's. True.” Xavier sounded resigned. “But it's probably true for a reason, Dean.”

Dean pressed on, undiscouraged. “Anyways, I can't cook for shit, but I'm great at ghost hunting, so-”

“Are you really?” Xavier interrupted. “Because I've seen you do a lot of weird stuff, but I've never seen you hunt a ghost.”

“C’mon, give me some credit. I've done enough research, I'm basically an expert.”

Xavier rolled his eyes “Yelling at reruns of Ghost Adventures on airplanes while the rest of us are trying to sleep doesn't count as ‘doing research’.”

"Yes it does.” Dean crossed his arms over his chest, tilting his chair back to try and balance it on two legs. “Are you still mad about Survivor Series? Because The New Day started that.”

“It’s not about Survivor Series.”

“Is it cause you’re worried that I’m gonna get my show on the Network and steal all your viewers now that you’ve got your video games show on there?”

Xavier scoffed. Well, if that wasn't it then Dean just didn't understand what the problem was.

“Listen, I just don’t think you understand how much work goes into something like that. Like, okay. Ignoring the fact that you haven’t even gotten a deal with the Network yet.”  Xavier sat forward, holding up fingers as he listed off his questions. “Do you have the right equipment? Who are you getting to do your post production? Are you going to need permits to film in any of your locations? What do -"

“See? These are the questions we need to be asking! This is why I need you on my team, Xavier. You’re going to be the best co-host ever.

“No.” Xavier said. Dean started to say something to reassure Xavier that he would, in fact, be the best co-host, but Xavier held up a hand to stop him. “No. It’s a hard pass. Look, I’ll help a little if I can, but I’m busy with my own show. You know, the one that you refuse to be on and are apparently going to steal all the viewers of?”

“Oh. Yeah. That’s fine.” Dean tried to hide his disappointment by shoving the last half of his brownie into his mouth. It didn’t work.

“Aww, c’mon man, don’t look like that. I’m sure someone will be on your show. Why don’t you ask Roman and Seth?” Xavier offered, but Dean just shook his head.

“I tried already. They both said they’re too busy too. Roman’s got his family and all that good shit, and Seth’s got Crossfit, like that’s an excuse, but. Both of them told me that they wouldn’t be good on the show because they don’t even believe in ghosts! Can you believe that?”

“Actually -”

Whatever Xavier was going to say was interrupted when Dolph Ziggler appeared and down at the table with them, spinning one of the vacant chairs around so that he could sit on it backwards like he thought he was the cool kid in some shitty teen movie.

“I believe in ghosts.” Dolph said

“No one was talking to you.”

“Well maybe you should.” Dolph grinned “Because I've actually seen a ghost.”

“Fuck off.” Dean said, since Dolph was sitting too far away to shove. But then, against his better judgement, Dean asked “Really?”

As much as Dean disliked Dolph, he figured that he could maybe, maybe put up with him if he had to. Because if Dolph actually had experience interacting with the paranormal, then -

“Yep. And I fucked it. The ghost.”

Nevermind.

“Oh yeah, I fucked that ghost. She was totally horny for it, and she was hot as hell too, so.” Dolph seemed to cut himself off and for one merciful second Dean thought that he was going to stop talking. But then Dolph continued “Well, I guess she was actually cold as hell. Because she was a ghost. But she was super sexy and totally into me. Or, I was into her. If you know what I mean.”

“Fuck off, Dolph.”

“And then there was another time that a chick told me that the ghost of her dead grandpa had told her to break up with me. So I guess what I'm trying to tell you is that ghosts suck.” Dolph winked. “In multiple ways.”

\---

“What have I told you about saving it for the cameras?”

Kurt Angle did not look particularly pleased to have Dean in his office, even though he was the one who had demanded that Dean be brought there after John Cone had broken up his fight with Dolph backstage.

“Uhhhh...” Dean slumped down in the chair and stalled as he tried to dredge through his memories. “To, uh. To save it for the cameras?”

“Exactly.” Kurt Angle crossed his arms over his chest. “I don't know what I need to do to reach you, Dean. I don't want you to have to be called in to talk to the commissioner, but -”

Dean snapped his fingers, suddenly sitting bolt upright. “That's it!”

“What's it?” Kurt looked baffled

“That's exactly what I need! Thanks Kurt, you're a lifesaver!” Dean was most of the way out the door before he stopped and turned back to Kurt, who was staring after him. “Wait. Who's our commissioner again?”

\---

“You’re not Steph.”

“Very observant.” Triple H steepled his fingers in front of him and watched as Dean lingered in the doorway.

“Where’s Steph?” Dean looked around the office, as if Stephanie McMahon would be hiding behind one of the filing cabinets to get the jump on him. He wouldn’t have put it past a McMahon. “I’m supposed to have a meeting with her.”

“Stephanie has more important things to do than to deal with reprimanding you. Now, take a seat.” Triple H gestured to one of the chairs on Dean’s side of the desk.

“Thanks.” Dean sat down, made himself as comfy as he could in a chair that had apparently been specifically engineered to be as un-fucking-comfortable as possible. “But I’m not here for a reprimand.”

Triple H raised an eyebrow, turned to check something on his computer screen. “Really. Because it says here that Kurt requested this meeting to address your inability to manage interpersonal conflicts in a way that benefits the company.”

“That’s weird. Must have been a typo.”

“The entire memo was a typo?”

“Yep.” Dean said. “I’m actually here because I have a great idea for a new show on the WWE Network!”

Triple H actually sighed and leaned his head against one of his hands. Dean took that as a good sign - Trips was definitely just settling in to listen to his pitch, which. Dean hadn’t prepared a pitch, exactly, but he always did best when he didn’t have anything planned, so he started with “It’s gonna be just like Ghost Adventures, but better, because -” and let his heart lead him from there. After a while Trips got a real far away look in his eyes, and Dean knew that it was just because he was imagining how great the show was going to be and how many new subscribers would join the Network. So it was a bit of a surprise that, when Dean finally stopped to take a breath before explaining the third phase of his plan, Triple H just said

“No.”

Dean stopped short for a second before he figured out that Trips probably just needed some reassuring. “Now now, I know what you’re thinking. And you don’t need to worry. I’m just focusing on ghosts, so the supernatural roster members will be safe. At least for the first few seasons.”

“No.” Triple H said again. “You’re not focusing on anything, because there isn’t going to be any show.”

“What? Why not? Are you sure I can’t meet with Steph instead? Where is she? Maybe she'll be nicer to me.” Dean saw the look that Triple H was giving him and shrugged, chagrined. “Okay, nevermind. That was stupid. But are you _sure_ that the company isn’t interested?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe just take some time to think it over. Because if you think about it” Dean said “you're gonna realize that it's a great idea.”

“Among larger issues, I just do not think that the WWE Network is the right place for The Dean Ambrose Ghost Touching Hour.”

“That’s not what it’s called!”

“Oh? So you have a better title in mind?” Triple H leaned back in his big office chair, waiting.

“Uh...yeah, of course I do, it’s.” Dean fiddled with the drawstring on his sweatshirt hood. “It’s, uh. It has definitely got a better name than The Dean Ambrose Ghost Touching Hour. And that name, which is very good, is, uh. Ghost Quest!”

“Ghost Quest.”

“Yep. Because like I said, I’m on a quest to find the ghosts and kick their asses.” Dean sat up suddenly as inspiration struck him. “Yeah! And I can even call it Ghost Quest 2k18 so it fits in better with the brand!”

“Wait. I thought you said this was a TV show, not a video game.”

“It’s not a video game. Why would it be a video game? Although, I am willing to talk expansion options if -”

“Nevermind. Shut up, listen.” Triple H checked his watch, and stood up. “I have an actual important meeting happening in five minutes. You need to leave.”

“If I leave, that means you’re going to think about it!” Dean said, triumphant

“No, it doesn’t.” Triple H started to roll up his sleeves. “And if you’d rather, I could put you through this desk and call security, but -”

“Wait, wait, hold on -” Dean stood up, holding his hands out “- I thought we were supposed to be saving it for the cameras!”

Triple H paused in the middle of flipping one of his cuffs to stare at him, which gave Dean enough time to get to the door. Not that he couldn’t take Trips, who was an old man that was currently wearing slacks, but this had been the most productive meeting that Dean had ever had with one of his bosses and it would be a shame to ruin things now that Trips had basically pretty much told him that he could definitely have his show on the Network.

“And speaking of cameras, I’m gonna go ahead borrow one from the crew to shoot the pilot if that’s cool. Alright, great, bye!”

\---

Dean had decided that the best way to start his show would be with a classic haunted house, and after doing a little digging he found rumors of a haunting not far from the next town on the tour. Having a show at night meant Dean would have to go in the morning - not classically the best time for paranormal activity - but he would have been limited to daylight hours anyways since the camera that he had gotten from the crew when he told them that he had permission from Hunter Hearst Helmsley himself to requisition one hadn’t come with night vision.

(Honestly. How did they expect him to make a good ghost hunting show without a night vision camera? Sometimes Dean felt like he was the only one who really believed that this project could turn into something great.)

R-Truth had agreed to come along and drive after Dean had promised to buy breakfast, and he had only gotten them turned around a handful of times on the way there. For once Dean wasn't inclined to give him a hard time about it. Especially considering that Dean hadn't exactly had an “address”, per say, just a rough idea and a handful of rumors. They'd had to stop and ask directions at three gas stations, and only ended up finding the house at all because the teenager stocking the drink cooler at the Shell station had been a fan and had been willing to draw them a map and let Dean record their conversation in exchange for a couple of autographs.

“Everyone around here knows where it is.” The teen said, as he added another helpful landmark to the map - SIGN THAT SAYS PIGS FOR SALE. “It's haunted as fuck though. My brother always used to hear a baby screaming when he went out there, but it's a great place to go drinking if -. Uh.”

“Don't worry kid, I can cut that part out.” Dean reassured him, making a mental note to talk to Xavier about how to cut parts out of a video. “But how do we know where to turn if they sold the pigs?”

“Oh, uh, don't worry.” He said, as he drew a curving road and added a little house doodle in the corner of the paper. Two lines for the walls, two lines for the roof, but instead of drawing windows inside the structure of it he wrote _BLOOD HOUSE_. “They never sell those pigs.”

Dean hadn't understood why the kid had called it the Blood House at the time, but the reason for the name became apparent when R-Truth parked at the end of the winding clamshell driveway. It was late autumn and the woods surrounding the house were almost completely bare of leaves, laced by ice instead. Everything was shades of grey and brown, except for the little one story bungalow.

The paint was more of a maroon than the bright red of blood that Dean was used to seeing in the ring, but. Close enough, especially for a bunch of rowdy teenagers.

“Today on Ghost Quest 2k18, we are going to investigate a haunting at a site the locals refer of as the _Blood House_.” Dean made sure there was a lot of emphasis on the words, already planning the graphic overlay that he would add in post. “We don't know what we will find within those walls, but we do know one thing for sure. By the end of the day, someone will bleed. But will it be us? Or will it be. The ghost?”

“I didn't think ghosts could bleed.” R-Truth said as he fiddled with the controls on the camera. “But still, good promo.”

“It’s not a promo.” Dean said as R-Truth kicked a bunch of beer cans off the porch and into the drifts of dead leaves. He opened the unlocked door of the house and walked inside. “And why wouldn't ghosts be able to bleed? Everything bleeds.”

“Rocks don't bleed.”

Dean was starting to think that maybe R-Truth wasn't taking this as seriously as he should have.

It was stuffy in the house, warmer than Dean would have expected once they closed the door behind them. He set the camera down for a second on the wide windowsill, next to a bunch of empties, while he unzipped his coat and stripped his gloves off with his teeth.

The entryway of the house proved that the teenager at the gas station hadn't been lying about the house being a drinking spot, but there was a disturbingly clear line between where the locals had seen fit to leave their beer cans and the rooms beyond. Beyond, the house seemed as if it were completely untouched. No one had ripped the pipes out of the walls or scrawled graffiti across the faded wallpaper. Even the heavy old wooden furniture was still in place, gathering dust, tarnished only by time.

R-Truth kept stopping to sneeze. The dust didn't bother Dean, but he realized that he was holding his breath as they moved from room to room. All of his senses on high alert as he tried to detect any type spectral presence. Too bad that EMF meter that he'd bought off of getyourghost.com hadn't shown up in time for this - Dean was certain that it would have been going off the charts in this creepy ass house.

It seemed that every single floorboard creaked and groaned, no matter how lightly they tried to step. All of the plates were still stacked neatly in the kitchen cabinets. In the only bedroom the closets were empty, but the bed was still neatly made, with the faded quilt tucked in along the edge of the mattress. Dean turned the camera to the window, filming out through the glass to capture the skeletal frosted trees beyond.

“Who knows what secrets this slumbering forest holds…” Dean whispered, hoping that the microphone on the camera would be able to pick it up clearly. If not, he could always put subtitles over the video later. Maybe he would do that anyways. Dean wanted to convince the Network that Ghost Quest 2k18 was the real deal, and all of the ghost hunting shows that he had studied had used subtitles as needed.

It wasn’t a very large house, so it didn’t take them long to go through it even if they were slowed down by R-Truth wanting to inspect every single porcelain knick-knack that he saw. Dean was getting more and more excited to finally encounter the ghost. He hadn’t exactly heard any suspicious knocking or seen any unexplained movement, but he knew it had to be there. And when he pushed open the door of what he had expected to just be a linen closet, all of his suspicions were confirmed.

As soon as the door opened, Dean knew that this had to be the center of the haunting. What Dean had expected to be a small closet was actually much larger, an interior room that had clearly once been a nursery, but without a single window. The only light was the long line that cut through the open door behind Dean, but it was enough to see by. Enough to tell that this was the kind of room that that Bray Wyatt would have designed, something that Dean would have rolled his eyes at in a horror movie for being too heavy handed. If Dean wouldn't have been seeing it with his own eyes he he'd have never bought into it, but as it was he made sure to get good video of ever creepy detail.

The fragments of a crib that looked like it had been shattered apart by some great internal force. The long black burn marks on the walls that looked like they had been scarred by fiery claws. The mobile that was the only thing in the room not stained by soot, a still circle of little angels that seemed to stare right at Dean with their wide white eyes.

Dean went a few steps further into the room before he felt the temperature start to drop. It was a sure sign of ghostly activity, and Dean was immediately on high alert. His fingers started to go numb around the grip of the camera and, as much as Dean didn't want to give the ghosts the satisfaction of seeing him shiver, his teeth started to chatter together slightly as the air got colder and colder.

“R-Truth! Are you feeling this?” Dean kept his voice low, a hushed whisper as he clenched his teeth together. The creepy mobile above the crib had started swaying gently as if touched by the breeze of some ghostly hand, and Dean made sure to keep the camera focused on it as he asked again. “Are you seeing this? Truth?”

But R-Truth did not reply. And when Dean turned around, and R-Truth wasn't there.

Dean felt a flash of fear before he remembered that he wasn't afraid of any ghost, dropped into a fighting stance as he tried to scan every corner of the room at once. Which mostly just meant that he ended up spinning around in circles, trying to keep his steps light and careful so that the floorboards wouldn't creak under his boots. Dean couldn't really get both fists up when he was holding the camera, but he figured it was good enough.

“Hey, ghost!” Dean shouted as he turned again, trying not to keep his back to any one corner for too long. “You better bring back R-Truth right now or I'm gonna kick the shit out of you!”

No sooner had Dean turned away from the door than he heard a floorboard creak behind him. Dean fumbled the camera a little bit as he spun around, eye on the viewfinder to make sure that he captured the ghost as evidence, but once the lens focused there was no ghost at all. There was just R-Truth, standing in the doorway and looking confused.

“What's up?”

“I thought the ghost got you!” Dean hissed. It had gotten cold enough in the room that Dean couldn't feel his nose. “Where did you go?”

“Back to the other room.” Seeming unperturbed, R-Truth gestured back over his shoulder to the living room that connected to the creepy nursery. He was also speaking in a perfectly normal voice at a perfectly normal volume as if they weren't in the presence of a potentially malicious spirit. It just wasn't right, and Dean told him as much.

“My bad.” R-Truth was at least attempting to whisper now, but Dean definitely wouldn't have to add subtitles for him later. “So you saw the ghost?”

“No.” Dean grit out. “I didn't see the ghost. But feel how cold it is in here! Look, I can see my own breath.” Dean exhaled hard, in a big white cloud, to illustrate his point.

“What? Oh, nah. That's probably just ‘cause I opened the window back there.”

“What?! Why would you do that?”

“Didn’t you notice how dusty it is in here?” R-Truth replied, waving his hand through the air as if to illustrate his point. “A little fresh air never hurt anybody.”

\---

An abandoned shopping mall might not have been the most obvious place for a haunting, but Dean had read about this location in a number of very reputable news sources that claimed that the mall has been built directly over the homestead site of a pioneer family had been driven to madness and massacred each other. People had reported ghostly activity ever since the shopping center had been opened, and some ever said that the ghosts, and not the economy, were why the mall had failed.

“At one time people flocked to this mall to shop. But now the stores are gone.” Dean took off his sunglasses, “And only evil remains.... Jesus Christ, can you hold the camera still for one second?”

“Fuck off.” Baron muttered, checking over his shoulder again even the only thing that Dean could see back there was a busted up sign for Hot Topic.

“Why are you so jumpy?” Dean asked, putting his sunglasses back on. It had been a grey and dreary day so it wasn’t exactly bright in the mall, but there was still enough light coming down through the row of skylights above them that Dean didn’t need a flashlight. And besides, the sunglasses just looked cool.

“I’m not jumpy.” Baron snapped back.

“I thought that you said you weren't afraid of ghosts.”

“I'm not! Just. What if someone saw us breaking in here and called the cops?”

“Let ‘em. This place wasn't even locked up! It's not breaking and entering if the door is open.” Dean said as he wandered off towards the food court. “It's just entering.”

“So, trespassing.”

“No.” Dean stopped and fixed Baron with a look. “ _Entering_.”

Dean tried to get Baron to shoot footage from a couple of different angles as Dean scanned shuttered storefronts with the EMF meter, but Baron was still so fidgety that Dean could just tell that the tape was going to be useless. Baron was clearly trying to play it cool but he was still jumping every time that the EMF meter so much as crackled.

“What was that?” Baton hissed, grabbing Dean's elbow and almost dropping the camera as he darted his gaze back and forth across the empty mall.

“Chill the fuck out, seriously.” Dean stepped away from Baron and glared at him. “It was just background interference.”

At least Baron had enough sense to look chagrined when Dean snatched the camera away from him.

The only reason that Dean had even agreed to let Baron come along was that Sami had bailed on him at the last minute. That, and the fact that it had been a little flattering to actually have someone requesting to be on the show. Even if that person was Baron Corbin. Dean wasn't sure who had told Baron about the show - Dean had been telling everyone who was willing to listen, sure, but he still blamed it on that jackass Ziggler running his mouth. Regardless, Baron had badgering Dean to let him in on the project for a week. But despite being so adamant about wanting in on an episode of Ghost Quest 2k18, Baron didn't seem like he wanted anything to do with the ghosts now that he was actually there.

Which was just too bad for Baron. Because Dean was determined that today was going to be the day that he contacted some lingering spirits. Dean had been thinking about it and he had realized that the reason he hadn't seen any ghosts with  R-Truth was probably that he hadn't yelled at them enough.

“Ghosts?” Dean called out, scanning back and forth across the silent, empty food court. “Hello?”

All the tables had been removed, but there was an old carousel that was still gathering dust. As Dean wandered by the SBarro he ended up getting caught in a huge spiderweb, cursing and punching at it while Corbin just stood there with his hands in his pockets and his shoulders up around his ears. For a guy who couldn’t shut the fuck up about his collection of human skulls, Baron sure was skittish about dead people.

At the carousel Dean zoomed in on the faces of horses - they had been carved into something that had probably been intended as excitement but looked more like a rictus of fear, bared teeth and bulging white eyes.

“Look, Baron. It's you.”

“No it's not, shut up.”

The EMF meter hadn't made a peep but Dean still reached out to tap his knuckles on one of the horse's nose. Nothing. Just a hollow, empty knocking.

“Hey, ghosts!” Dean tried again, more assertive, as they left the food court and headed towards the middle of the mall. “I know you're there you spectral sacks of shit!”

The mall had been built with wings of stores branching off from a central hub. There were benches there, flanked by rectangular concrete planters filled with dead decorative grass, with a fountain in the center filled with acrid green water. A big glass atrium stretched above it all, or there had been before most of the panes of glass had shattered and left behind the skeletal support beams. The tile was slippery there, from the gentle, misting rain that drifted down through the ruined ceiling. It made everything a little hazy, and Dean had to pause to wipe off the lens of the camera before he tried to contact the spirits again.

“Hey! Ghosts!”

“Dean, don’t -” Baron whispered

“Come out and fight me you cowards!” Dean yelled as he took a step towards the fountain.

Dean wasn't watching where he was going because he was too busy keeping a lookout for the ghosts, but even if he would have been he probably wouldn't have given a shit about stepping on the glass. It cracked under the sole of his boot, a bright, satisfying shatter, and Baron screamed. Dean spun around, hoping that a ghost had finally manifested even though he already knew that Baron had just been startled by the glass breaking. But at least Dean caught the debacle that followed on tape - Baron, attempted to avoid slipping on the slick tile and stuck his hand out to grab the grass in one of the planters, shouted again when he flushed the three small brown birds that had been hiding there.

Baron ripped his beanie off with a curse and threw it to the ground, kept on railing about what bullshit Dean's show was and how he wanted to leave. Dean just traced the birds with the camera as they hopped across the back of a bench and took flight, spiraling up, up through the mist of rain and out of the ruined ceiling, disappearing into the flat grey sky.

\---

The sun had started to set while Dean was scouting out the location and deciding on how to frame his opening shot. It took longer than it should have, but Dean's guest for the episode wasn't being much help despite his overflowing enthusiasm as the sky turned to warm reds and oranges in a counterpoint to the unforgiving day.

It wasn't raining, at least. Not a cloud in the wild and colorful sky. But it was well below freezing and the howling the wind wasn’t helping anything as it whipped the dark waves of Lake Superior into a frenzy that boomed as crashed against the steel shore. There wasn't even anywhere to take cover unless Dean wanted to go back and sit in the car - none of the neighboring buildings were still standing, all having been reduced to rough chunks of concrete and crumbling foundations, leaving the lighthouse as a solitary dogtooth that jutted up from the cliffs.

“For decades, it has been said that the restless spectre of a former lighthouse keeper still roams these grounds.” Dean shouted over the wind as he looked at the camera as he gestured to the tall white tower and the jagged coastline behind him. “The lighthouse has been abandoned for years now. But tonight -” He looked directly into the camera. “- we are going to shine some light on this ghost.”

“Oh shit bro!” Mojo jumped up and down, and the hand that wasn't holding the camera punched up into the air with unbridled excitement. “Bro! That was so hype! Can I do one next bro?”

“Uh.” Dean flipped his hood back up to try and protect his neck from the freezing wind. “Sure.”

“Thanks bro!”

Mojo tossed the camera to Dean as he ran past him up to the base of the lighthouse, just lobbed it at the empty air about a foot to the left of Dean's face. Dean scrambled to catch it, his numb fingers fumbling along the housing for a moment before he finally got a good grip and stopped the camera from tumbling to the ground. Dean was freezing, even with his hood up and his hat pulled down around his ears, but Mojo didn't seem to even feel the cold as he took his place in front of the lighthouse and posed with his hands on his hips. The tank top and basketball shorts that Mojo always wore rippled and flapped around him in the wind like bright flags as Dean gave him a thumbs up.

“Hey there bros! Today me and my bro Dean Ambrose are gonna check out some hype paralegal activities! I don't know what this thing is -” Mojo shouted as he turned and pointed to the lighthouse behind him “- but it's hype as hell, and I bet it's filled with salty ghosts!”

“Fuck, it's -. It's a lighthouse!”

It was almost completely dark by the time Dean was done getting B-roll of the lighthouse grounds and he was more than ready to get out of the wind for a while, but he had to shepard Mojo away from the cliff's edge and over to the door of the lighthouse. Usually, when Dean was the most responsible one in a group it usually led to trouble. But this was different. Dean was determined to make Ghost Quest 2k18 a success. Someone had to be prepared, and there was just no way that it going to be Mojo.

Dean still had the crowbar he had grabbed from the stage crew, but there weren't any boards across the door. It wasn't even locked - in fact, the hardest part was pulling it open against the wind. Past the door it was pitch black inside the lighthouse but Dean slipped in without a second thought, just desperate to escape the cutting wind.

“Hey bro? Do you think that these salty ghosts stay hype?” Mojo asked as soon as the door had slammed shut behind them and plunged them into darkness.

“What the fuck? No, Mojo, I don’t.”

Standing just inside the lighthouse, Dean dug the flashlights out of his backpack and handed one to Mojo. Dean still hadn't gotten his hands on a night vision camera, but he wasn't going to let that stop him. He would just have to make do with handheld lighting, and at least he had an assistant. Mojo had started clicking his own flashlight on and off as fast as possible in what Dean figured was his closest approximation of a strobe light.

“Why do you keep calling them ‘salty ghosts’?” Dean asked

“Bro! Cause they're salty as hell, bro! Cause they came from the ocean to live in this house!”

“What?” Dean raised his eye from the viewfinder of the camera to stare directly at Mojo. “That's not the ocean out there.”

“What are you talking about, bro? That's totally the ocean.”

“No. It's not.” The last thing Dean had wanted to do was get into deep discussion about this with Mojo when he was supposed to be hunting for ghosts, but. “Mojo, where do you think we are?”

“In the lighthouse, bro! Bro, you just told me that!”

Dean scrubbed his hand across his face. “Okay, yeah, we're in the lighthouse. But we're in Michigan, on the Upper Peninsula. That's Lake Superior.”

“Bro! They should've named it Lake Hyperior!”

“You know what? Fuck it. Let's just -” Dean grabbed the EMF meter and handed it to Mojo. “Here. Use this to help me find the ghosts, okay?”

Dean made sure to keep Mojo within arms reach at all times as they explored the old lighthouse. Which was tough when Mojo kept trying to sprint ahead. All Dean could do was try and keep up as he waved the EMF meter around. There weren't even that many places that Mojo could have gone, but the last thing Dean wanted was for Mojo to get separated - partially because Mojo didn't seem to even know what state they were in, and partially because Dean didn't want Mojo running around and potentially disturbing the scene like R-Truth had at the Blood House.

But even though Dean didn't want to admit it, he wasn't sure there was much of a scene to disturb. He had always said that he would know a ghost when he felt one, and as they circled up and up and up the spiral staircase Dean didn't feel anything peculiar at all. No creeping sense of dread. No hair standing up on the back of his neck. No cold spots or mysterious knocking noises. Not a single crackle on the EMF meter, despite Mojo’s vigorous exploration.

Dean didn't do much to mask the disappointment in his voice as he narrated their ascent for the camera. He probably could have pretended that he was hearing a ghost, but he prided himself on his honesty in all supernatural matters. Even if it felt sometimes that he was the only one taking it seriously, Dean never would have betrayed the future audience of Ghost Quest 2k18.

“The constant howling in the background may sound like the mourning wails of a lost soul.” Dean told the camera while Mojo tried to shine his flashlight out of one of the tiny windows. “But tonight it seems that it is only the winds that haunt this lonely lighthouse.”

It was colder once they climbed up into the lantern room, but Dean didn't get his hopes up. That was probably just because the walls were mostly glass and didn't have any real insulation from the cold and stormy night. The rails around the lens were covered with a thick fur of dust that Mojo swiped and sent flying.

“Hey bro! What's this?” Mojo asked as he wandered around the edge of the room, tracing the curved glass of the lighthouse’s lens with the EMF meter.

“It's called a Fresnel lens.”

“Bro! Bro, that is so cool. How do you know all this stuff bro?” Mojo angled his flashlight at Dean through the lens, but since he was pointing into the lens instead of out of it the light just scattered instead of focusing.

“I do my research.” Dean said, a little stung. His research had also told him that this lighthouses was supposed to be haunted - the whole reason the Fresnel lens had been left in place was that the ghost had sabotaged all attempts to remove it - but as far as Dean could tell there hadn't been a single blip of haunted activity.

Dean pressed his forehead to one of the thick panes of glass, felt it shake and rattle in the wind as he looked out at the moonless night beyond. It was so dark out that the only things that Dean could see were the tiny lights of the nearest town, twinkling like scattered jewels along the edge of the invisible coast.

\---

Dean knocked on the edge of the door frame as he invited himself into the room where Xavier had set up his computer. “You got those videos I sent you?”

“That's why I called you.” Xavier tapped the tip of his own against the desk as he waited for Dean to drag a chair over. “But I don't understand why you sent me the _entire camera_. You could have just pulled the files and put them on a flash drive.”

“Xavier, c’mon. You know for a fact that I could not do that even if I tried.”

“Hmm. Fair enough.” Xavier conceded. “Anyways, I think you need to get a new camera.”

“Huh?”

“The one you're using is artifacting under certain light conditions. I've never seen anything like it, but it shows up in all your footage. Here, look -”

Dean stared at the screen as Xavier played a clip from when Dean and Mojo had been in the lantern room of the lighthouse. The audio was off and Dean was genuinely trying to see what Xavier had mentioned, to catch some type of glitch, but to Dean it all looked fine. Just as frustratingly ghost-less as Dean remembered.

“Right there.” Xavier pointed to the screen a few seconds before the video ended.

“I didn't see it.” Dean admitted, after he'd asked Xavier to play it the fourth time. “Can't you, uh. Just enhance it or something? You know. Enhance. _Enhance_.”

“That is not” Xavier said “even remotely how this works.”

“Then can you make it go slower or something? I'm trying here, but I don't see this crazy glitch thing.”

Xavier sighed, but he clicked something and the next time he hit play Dean watched very closely as the video ran in slow motion. Mojo shone his light through the Fresnel lens. And then, for the first time, Dean saw it clearly. All of the dust that they had kicked up was illuminated, catching the light in a hazy cloud, within the cloud of it there were certain sections where there was just. No dust. Lines that were only lines because they were empty, worked together and connected into… some sort of symbol, maybe? Whatever it was didn't look accidental.

Dean was able to talk Xavier into pulling up the footage from his other Ghost Quests and, sure enough, he saw the glitch again. Once he knew what he was looking for he couldn't miss it. There it was in the Blood House, briefly visible in the dust that had been kicked up in the creepy nursery when R-Truth had opened the window. And again in the mall when Dean had filmed the birds flying up through the misting rain.

That one was actually the most interesting, because Dean had turned a little as he filmed the birds and rewatching the videos could see that whatever was displacing the rain wasn't flat. It was _deep_. Three dimensional, and the appearance of it changed slightly depending on the angle that it was being filmed at.

“I've got a couple buddies on the production crew that I could ask to look at your camera.” Xavier offered as he handed the video camera back to Dean. “It’s not the biggest deal, but if you’re trying to make this professional you should get it fixed.”

Dean had begun to suspect that whatever he and Xavier were looking at was no mere camera glitch. Xavier had never seen anything like it before, but it just kept showing up whenever Dean filmed in haunted locations? The coincidence was too great - whatever this phenomena was, it had to be related to the ghosts. But Dean knew that he wouldn't stand much of a chance convincing Xavier of that, so he just said

“Thanks man, I’ll definitely look into it. But don’t worry - I know a guy.”

\---

Okay, so maybe Dean didn't exactly _know_ Aleister Black. But Dean knew _of_ him - if there was anyone on the roster who looked like they knew enough about spooky shit to help Dean figure out what was going on with the weird glitch symbols it was definitely Aleister. And lucky for Dean, he knew how to figure out where to find him the next time that the roster swung down through Florida.

William Regal had installed better locks since the last time that Dean had broken into his office, but they still weren't good enough to keep Dean out.

Aleister opened the door with a long look when Dean showed up unannounced at his apartment. All the new construction in Orlando looked basically the same and Aleister’s building was almost eerily nondescript, but once Dean was inside it was pretty much exactly what he had expected. Dark fabric draped in front of all the windows cut the famous Florida sunshine down to a mere fraction of it’s true brightness, and the entire apartment seemed to be lit entirely by candles. Which, was a bit of a fire hazard given the rows of bookshelves that lined the walls. Dean shut the door behind him as he entered, trying to be polite for once, but when he looked back at it he saw that Aleister had painted a burning Hand of Glory on the back of it.

Damn. Now Dean was more sure than ever that this guy was the real deal. But Aleister definitely wasn't getting his deposit back.

It might have even been a little creepy except for the fact that Dean was pretty sure he recognized those couches and the coffee table from the last time that he had let Sami drag him to an IKEA. Well, that and the, uh, very specific item of clothing that was draped over the back of one of the couches. Which was why the first thing that Dean ended up saying to Aleister Black was

“You never struck me as a chaps type of dude.”

In a flash, Aleister shoved the chaps off the back of the couch and out of sight. Then he folded gracefully down onto the cushions, steepled his fingers in front of his face as he stared at Dean, waiting.

“Okay, cool, lets just get down to it then.”

Dean had gotten Xavier to isolate screenshots from his recordings, and he laid out the glossy stills on the table. He had printed them out earlier in the day using William Regal's printer when he had broken into William Regal’s office for the second time after he had realized that Staples was going to charge him like a dollar per page. Highway robbery was what that was, and Dean had already sprung Regal's locks, so.

“See? These… dust glitches. What the fuck is up with these? They keep popping up when I'm out looking for ghosts. That one was in Massachusetts.” Dean tapped at the earliest picture, kept pointing as he ran them down. “Michigan. Tennessee. They're from all over the place, but they all look pretty similar.”

Aleister didn't say anything. He just stared at the photos for a while before he looked back up at Dean.

“So?” Dean tried “Do you know what we’re looking at here? Are these the ghosts?”

“No.” Aleister said, as he shook his head slowly. It was the first time that Dean had heard him speak. “These are not the ghosts.”

“Shit.”

“This is what the ghost leaves behind.” Aleister unfolded from his position on the couch and made a beeline for one of his bookshelves, tracing his fingers over the spines of the books until he had found what he was looking for. “When a spirit dissipates, it leaves behind an energy signature.”

Aleister sat back down across from Dean and laid the leather bound book out on the table next to the printouts. Aleister had opened it to a page that showed a couple of indecipherable symbols that looked similar to the glitches that Dean had in his own pictures. Similar, but.

“These aren't quite the same, though.” Dean said, tracing his fingers across the page of Aleister’s book. There were some notes around the edge of the pages, but Dean couldn't even try to read them since whoever had left them hadn't been using an English alphabet. Dean looked back to his pictures. “The ones I've been seeing are way spikier.”

Aleister nodded. “Previous investigations into this phenomena have shown that there are... variations. Differences in schema that have to do with how and why the ghost moved on from this plane. But they are difficult to study as this type of energy only persists for a very short time after the spirit has dissipated. It is. Concerning, that you have been encountering so many of them.”

“What?”

“Because these -” Aleister sat and stared Dean “- are not the impressions of spirits that have gone peacefully to another realm. All of these ghosts were... destroyed. Forcefully extinguished from their spectral existence through means unknown.”

In the corner of the room one of the candles guttered. Flickered, and went out.

“Someone’s been busting my ghosts before I can even find them!” Dean exclaimed. “What the fuck!”

Aleister blinked, very slowly. “Someone. Or some _thing,_ very powerful.”

“It’s bullshit, is what it is!” Dean stopped to think for a minute, staring at the papers on the table until he asked Aleister “Do you think it could be someone on the roster?”

“I would sincerely hope that it is not. Although, the main roster is a known home for demons and creatures of unknown origin. Why? Do you suspect…” Aleister trailed off

“Well, ‘cause I’ve been askin’ around backstage to try and get people to guest star on my show, y’know? And I’m thinking that someone might be eavesdropping in on where I’m going so that they can get to the ghosts before me.”

“Your...show?”

“Yeah, Ghost Quest 2k18. It’s gonna be on the WWE Network. That’s why I was out filming when I found the spirit signatures, and... Shit! I bet that's why all these places have been so easy to get into - I wasn't the first one breaking in.”

Aleister raised an eyebrow at Dean.

“And now that you mention it, I was gonna go check out this old sanitarium down in Lantana tonight. I was planning on getting there around eight but if we leave -” Dean glanced at his phone “- now, we could get there a bit earlier than I had planned. Maybe beat whatever has been out there sniping my ghosts.”

“We.”

Dean nodded, serious. “I need an expert in on this, Aleister. I know it's a bit of a drive, but just think - either you'll get to figure out if someone on the main roster is a ghost buster or you get to see one of those energy signatures first hand. You said they were pretty rare, huh? I bet you could get on the front page of Occultist Monthly or whatever the fuck if you documented one in real life.”

Just as Dean had hoped, Aleister started to look grudgingly interested when he mentioned  symbol documentation. What a nerd.

\---

“Fuck. I forgot the EMF meter.” Dean cursed, digging in his pockets as if he could make it appear through stubborn force of will. When that didn’t work he asked Aleister “Would you mind goin’ back to grab it for me? It should be in the glovebox.”

Aleister glared at Dean from behind the camera. His free hand was still holding at the scrape on his ribs where he had almost been laid open by the barbed wire when they had climbed over the fence that encircled the facility. The side of Aleister’s shirt had been sliced to ribbons, but the bleeding from the scrape had mostly stopped even before Dean had made him help break the padlock off one of the heavy metal doors.

“I do not wish to be on camera for this.” Aleister had muttered, ducking his head as he had tried to leverage the crowbar against the doorframe

“Don't worry dude, I'll blur you out in post. Like those secret witness protection guys on crime shows. No one will recognize you.”

“You can do that?”

“Definitely.” Dean had said. Yeah. He could definitely try to remember to ask Xavier the next time that he saw him.

Aleister had still looked doubtful, so Dean had held out the camera and added

“Here, if it'll make you feel better I'll let you handle the filming. That way you don’t have to worry about being _on_ camera, huh?”

In the end Dean had been the one to break the lock anyways, but if Aleister was going to make a big deal out of it then they could just do this investigation without the EMF meter. The fact that all the exterior doors had still been barred was a good sign that no one had gotten to this place before him, and besides. Dean wasn’t going to need the meter to pick up the field of haunted energy in this place - he could _feel_ it.

“The Southeast Florida State Tuberculosis Hospital was the region’s main sanitarium for over sixty years, and before it was shut down one wing was converted to house minimum security prisoners. But now it is abandoned. Empty.” Dean paused to let the moment build. “Except for the ghosts.”

Together, he and Aleister made their way deeper into the sanitarium. The still air was warm and muggy, thick in Dean's lungs as he swept his flashlight back and forth.

The floors were patterned like a checkerboard, thick black and white linoleum squares that had been scratched with deep grooves in some places or warped by water damage in others. The ceiling tiles were marked by water damage as well, murky brown rings, that dripped down the thich cinder block walls. All of the doors inside the building were painted the exact unsettling shade that Dean always associated with surgeons, and had luckily been left barred open so that Dean and Aleister could easily see into the rooms to check for ghosts as they passed.

Whoever had been in charge of shutting this place down hadn't done a very good job at cleaning it out. Anything of value had long since been removed but most of the rooms still had stuff in them, dusty relics from the former days of the institution - wheelchairs and gurneys had simply been abandoned in the middle of the halls, and the rooms still held hospital beds and examination tables and, in one case, an ancient piece of equipment that was barely recognizable as an x-ray machine.

Dean and Aleister peeked into a couple of empty hospital rooms with bars on the windows and offices before they found another room with an ancient x-ray machine. Then there were some more barred hospital rooms followed another x-ray machine. Damn, this place had a fuckton of x-ray machines. It wasn't until Dean realized that the rooms had all had an overturned filing cabinet in the exact same spot that it occurred to him that they were getting turned around again and again in the endless checkerboard hallways.

When the realization sparked, the hair on the back of Dean's neck immediately stood on end. Something in this place was very, very wrong.

“Hey! Ghosts!” Dean kicked the side of the x-ray machine. “What the fuck?!”

There was no reply. Aleister gave Dean a baleful look as he followed him back out into the hallway, which Dean thought was a little bit -

A loud crash rang out, startling them both.

The soles of Dean's boots squeaked on the checkerboard linoleum as he pivoted and took off in a run, headed in the direction the noise had come from. Dean could hear Aleister shout behind him, may have heard him say something along the lines of “Don't -”, but there was no way that Dean was going to turn back when he was finally so close to finally finding and fighting a ghost.

The hallway seemed to stretch on forever. The warping black and white floor must have made it look shorter than it was, but finally the hallway ended in a T and Dean skidded to a stop. Dean aimed his flashlight at the corkboard on the wall directly in front of him - empty, save for a couple of forgotten push pins - and the hall split to either side, disappearing into the thick darkness. Dean cocked his head to the side and listened. There was something down that left branch, a low uneven squealing.

Dean stepped forward into the intersection of the hallways and turned to the left. He moved quick, hoping to get the drop on whatever had made the noise. The time had come, and Dean was more than ready to fight whatever ghost was trying to spook him. And if he could he would throw down with whatever had been busting his ghosts too. But his flashlight only glinted off of the metal rails of a gurney that had been overturned in the middle of the hallway. One of the wheels was still turning, squeaking ever so slightly as it continued it's lazy spin.

Then Dean heard something behind him. Three loud knocks. Dean spun around and -

(- Aleister, by far the more cautious of the two, had fallen behind when Dean had taken off in a sprint. So he was still filming from a ways back, getting closer, when Dean stepped forward. If the recording would have survived, it would have shown Dean spinning to the left and pausing for a split second before he jumped around and looked behind him. Back down the right flank of the hall. And then -)

\- he put his hands, slowly, into the air. Dean didn't know how in the hell the police officer had snuck up on him, but it hardly mattered. He knew the drill.

“I, uh. I was taking a shortcut?” Dean tried.

The police officer remained silent.

Hopefully this guy was a fan, otherwise Aleister would have to sweet talk Regal into bailing them out of jail, except. Dean should have been able to get a look at the officer’s face to gauge a reaction. It was dark in the sanitarium, sure, but Dean had still been holding his flashlight when he'd raised his hands. He had it pointed right at the guy, but.

It wasn't like it had been in the house with R-Truth. This time, the cold started from the within - froze the marrow in Dean’s bones first before it burst out through his insides.

Dean hadn't been able tell what kind of look the officer had in his eyes, because it didn't have eyes. There were only two stark black holes in it's expressionless face, ragged bottomless pits that stared at Dean. As Dean stared back, as a bloody grin sliced from nowhere across the officer's throat. Black ichor flowed from the ear-to-ear cut, thicker than blood. It dripped down across the from of the blue uniform and melted it away as the ragged, empty maw in the neck unhinged to reveal a spiral cluster of needle-like teeth that had sprouted from nowhere.

The halls of the sanitarium had been quiet right up until the moment when Dean saw the ghost for what it was. But then the silence shattered. Dean heard Aleister shout something from behind him, couldn't make out the words since the sudden shrieking of the ghost drowned out everything else.

Dean dropped his hands and squared himself, stepped forward with his fist drawn back to punch the ghost. But before he could swing something slammed into him from behind and all of the air was driven out of Dean's lungs as he was knocked down to his hands and knees on the linoleum. His flashlight cracked against the floor and went dark, but when Dean looked up again the ghost was glowing from within, pale light that suffused it's form except for the empty eyes and horrifying mouth.

Dean's foot tangled in the gurney as he tried to right himself, and he kicked at the metal frame as he realized that the ghost must have flung the damn thing at him. But now Dean was just more determined than ever to beat the crap out of this spectral asshole.

Just as Dean was about to launch himself towards the ghost, he was hauled back by the collar if his shirt. Dean choked and pulled back against the fabric until it ripped, and he spun to the lens of the camera as he pushed Aleister away.

“You can not fight that!” Aleister shouted over the raw howling of the ghost. He tried to grab Dean again, but Dean just grinned and stepped around his grasping hand.

“Watch me!”

The corkboard crashed off the wall beside them as Dean spun back around. He reared back and swung at the ghost but his fist just went right through the damn thing. The ghost didn't so much as flicker. But for Dean it was like sticking a fork in an electrical socket, all of the muscles in his arm locked up, drawn tight. Dean shouted out, wordless in pain and surprise, but he didn't back down. Dean lashed out and swung with his other arm but the same thing happened again, and he felt his heart stop for a second as he staggered to the side just in time to avoid falling _through_ the ghost. He ended up slumped against the wall instead, trying in vain to wiggle his fingers as he felt the cold cinder block wall start to vibrate.

After that, Dean didn't fight against it when Aleister hauled him backwards. He just clutched his numb arms to his chest as he let Aleister pull him away from the ghost. It had not occurred to Dean until that moment that he might not be able to punch a ghost. The new knowledge rattled him to his core, and chill horror ran through his veins. How was he supposed to fight this ghost if he couldn't punch it? Maybe if he got his arms working again he could hands on a weapon and -

It had been getting louder and louder and louder ever since the fight had started. Dean could hardly hear himself think, what with the ghost shrieking and the walls shaking and everything that could move slamming and cracking and breaking. It seemed like the noise would never end, except as soon as Dean and Aleister tried to run around the corner that was exactly what happened. Everything was ringingly silent and still and Dean had been running, before, hadn't he? Or, he had been stumbling as he tried to run. He certainly hadn't been floating, suspended in the air like he was nothing more than a grain of dust.

But now he was. And so was everything else.

Aleister must have noticed that he was peddling thin air at same time as Dea, because his fingers tightened on the sleeve of Dean's shirt as they made eye contact. All of the debris in the hallway had risen up from the floor, as if gravity had just been cancelled in this particular corner of Florida. Dean turned and looked back, past the twisted gurney and all of the other floating debris that had been scattered during the fight, to glare at the ghost.

Before Dean could flip it off, the ghost waved one glowing hand to the side, like it was shooing away a fly. Dean and Aleister were thrown down the hall along with all of the other floating debris, slammed into the unyielding wall.

Dean crumpled to the floor when the invisible force finally abated. Aleister slumped limp across his legs and that goddamn gurney fell on top of the both; even though the metal struts had been bent and twisted by the impact, Dean could see that one wheel of the thing was still lazily turning. A hail of plastic shards bounced off the linoleum around Dean's head, but he was far too dazed to realize that they were the shattered remains of the camera.

Usually when Dean ended up in sticky situations, he would reassure himself that _welp, I've gotten out of worse scrapes than this before_. But this time Dean wasn't sure if that was actually true. Dean felt like his veins were filled with ice water, couldn't even muster the strength to push the gurney off his face, but at least he was awake, which was more than could be said for Aleister.

Dean blinked up through the struts of the gurney as the ghost shuttered into view above him, radiating cold fury, a hate that crawled through Dean's system. It didn't look anything like a police officer anymore. It didn't look like like anything that Dean had ever expected, but he knew that it intended to kill him. Well, if Dean died then he was definitely going to come back as a ghost and kick this ghosts’ ass that was for damn sure, but it wasn't much of a reassurance as he stared into it's gnashing teeth and the empty void beyond it's black eyes.

Except instead of tearing his soul out or whatever the fuck it had been planning, the ghost suddenly reared back. Afraid. Dean wasn't sure how he could tell but he just knew. A pair of black shoes he stepped into the edge Dean's vision. Dean twisted his head as well as he could to get a better look, and as his vision resolved he saw that Referee John Cone was standing over him.

It took all of Dean's energy but he managed to mutter “What the fuck.”

John Cone smiled down at Dean.

The white bars of John Cone’s ref shirt had started to shine with vertical planes of light, cross sections of a blazing star that sliced into the ghost and drove it back, shrieking. Dean had to squint against the brightness of it as he watched John Cone pursue the ghost. Watched as John Cone seemed to _unfold_. To come undone. To peel apart into wild, winding strips of cauterizing power and to reveal that the black stripes of his shirt were not fabric at all but rather a depthless chasm, a dark, teeming ocean that was so much worse than the void that Dean had seen through the eyes of the ghost.

It was -

It was -

It was not anything that Dean could behold or comprehend. Not if he wanted to keep the parts of him that made himself. The last thing that Dean saw before he lost consciousness was John Cone engulfing the howling, disintegrating spirit that had seemed so horrible only moments before.

\---

“Excuse me? Sir? Your order is ready.”

Dean felt like he had just gone ten rounds with a mack truck and lost. He couldn’t remember where he had gotten all of the scratches on his arms or why his head was pounding fit to burst or how he had ended up in this Taco Bell. It may have sounded like a dire situation to an outsider, but nothing about it was an altogether uncommon occurrence in the life of Dean Ambrose.

It wasn’t until Dean glanced over and saw Aleister Black standing next to him, looking even worse than Dean felt, that Dean started to remember. They were going to film an episode of Ghost Quest 2k18 and Aleister had come with him to help find ghosts or whoever was busting them before Dean could. Right. And Dean had probably just wanted to get snacks ahead of time. That made sense. Didn’t explain why he was beat to shit, but -

“Sir.” The guy behind the counter said again, in a familiar tone that meant someone was just about done with Dean’s shit. “You already paid for it. Just take the food.”

“Did you order the nachos bellgrande?” Dean asked Aleister, sorting through the tray once they were sitting together at a table in the corner of the otherwise empty fast food franchise. Aleister just blinked back at him owlishly as Dean added “Cause I know that the crunchwrap supreme is mine. Here ya go.”

Aleister looked down at the nachos. Looked back up at Dean like he was trying to make sense of the world. “Dean. This is-”

“Hey there guys!” Dean turned to see John Cone standing next to their table. The referee was holding a video camera under his arm and looking at them expectantly. “Sorry it took me so long to get here. Mind if I take a seat?”

“Huh? Nah, man, go ahead. Just -” Dean said as John Cone set the camera on the table and took the empty seat next to Aleister. “ - what’re you doin’ here?

“You called me, said that you had broken a camera when you fell trying to climb over a barbed wire fence?” John Cone leaned forward, looking concerned. “Hey, are you two alright? Looks like both of you got the rough end of the deal with that fence.”

“Oh, uh.” Dean still couldn’t remember for sure, but that definitely sounded like a thing that he would have done. And when he thought about it, the memories started to fill themselves in. Aleister getting caught on the barbed wire and falling, knocking Dean off balance on his way down. Yeah. Yeah. That was exactly what had happened. “Yeah, sorry. Thanks for comin’ on such short notice. You want some food?”

Dean started to push his partially empty styrofoam bowl across the table, but John Cone held up his hand.

“No, thank you.” said John Cone “I already ate.”

Dean shrugged and went back to his food, shoving a sporkful in his mouth. More cheesy fiesta potatoes for him then.  But before he could start chewing Dean's mind stuttered and tripped and for a second he remembered -. The sensation of floating, weightless. Green doors. A blazing star. Dean choked on his food, coughing hard as John Cone reached across the table to pat him on the back until the fit had passed. When Dean finally got himself under control he couldn't remember what he had been thinking about. But then it didn't matter, because a genius idea had occurred to him.

“Hey, John Cone. Do you wanna be on Ghost Quest 2k18?” Dean offered around another mouthful of sour cream and cheese sauce.

“On what now?”

“My new ghost hunting show! For the Network. That’s why I asked you to bring the new camera down, right? Because Aleister and me are gonna go check out that creepy old sanitarium.”

“Oh. That’s right.” John Cone smiled “I’ve heard you mentioning that backstage a few times.”

“It’s a great idea right? And just imagine - Ghost Quest 2k18, with Special Guest Referee John Cone and Aleister Black.”

Aleister must have been hung up about suddenly getting second billing, because when Dean looked over to check on him he was staring at John Cone sitting next to him like he had never seen a referee before. Which was weird. John Cone was the most normal dude that Dean had ever met in his life. Dean knew for certain that he knew that. But thinking about the referee tickled something in Dean’s brain until he realized -

“Shit, wait, that might be too confusing. Maybe I can get it to say ‘Ghost Quest 2k18, with Aleister Black and Special Guest Referee John Cone, who is not a special guest referee, but a referee who is a special guest on the show’. Don’t worry, I’ll get it figured out.” Dean made a mental note to ask Xavier how many lines of text they could put on the intro screen. “It’ll be great! We’re gonna see a ghost this time, I’m sure of it!”

“Well, that does sound like fun,” John Cone said with another smile “but I'm a little worn out. I’ll just have to leave the ghost hunting to the experts.”

**Author's Note:**

> I dunno what to tell you, Referees are just Like That.


End file.
